


Insomnolence

by foldyourclothes



Category: Disco Elysium (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:23:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23007145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foldyourclothes/pseuds/foldyourclothes
Summary: So tired. So tired of being tired. So tired of being *awake*. You lie on the scratchy sheets, the ceiling fan above you generating a weak airflow that brushes your hair against your forehead.
Relationships: Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi
Comments: 19
Kudos: 105





	Insomnolence

So tired. So tired of being tired. So tired of being *awake*. You lie on the scratchy sheets, the ceiling fan above you generating a weak airflow that brushes your hair against your forehead. 

> Stare at it. Awakely.

It’s an ungodly hour, but sharp blades of light still penetrate your blinds from the streetlight outside. The ceiling fan spins lazy circles, not really doing anything for the humid warmth of this summer night. A drop of sweat tickles your armpit.

> What's above me?

Water running through pipes. Someone's taking a shower. It's been running for a long time. *Sitting* in the shower? Perhaps passed out from a bender that started at noon, in the shower?

Oh, that could be us. That *was* us, before you became a boring fuck.

It’s actually a woman, staring at the wall as the water runs over her. Exhaustion burns in her eyes; she’s getting ready for another 12 hour shift at the hospital.

> Okay. And further?

A sea of radio waves, some ducking low to slip between your ears on their way. Keeping you awake with their invisible vibrations.

> To the east?

No sounds to fixate on. A silence more intense than if someone was even sleeping there. *Suspiciously* quiet. You should investigate.

No, no one’s there. It’s been chronically empty since you moved here a few years ago, nobody staying for long. Maybe they hate disco.

Good riddance.

> What about beyond that?

The streets of North Jamrock. The heat has driven two drunks to start a fight in the market again. Eventually, the repurposed factory of Station 41 rests before you. Someone could still be there, working a case, papers in one hand and cigarette in the other - against the rules, but who’s there to stop them? - but it’s not likely. 

Maybe you could be doing that too. It would be better than just lying here in bed purgatory. 

Your muscles tense in pre-action, but after a moment, they relax again. If you get up now, your whole day will be fucked. You have a meeting with a witness tomorrow. 

Maybe tomorrow will never come. Time has slowed to a tiny fraction of its normal speed, and it’ll be years before the sun rises. You’re stuck in this bubble, alone forever.

> … To the west?

(You shouldn’t be playing this game. *Sleep*.)

The lieutenant is to the west, lying beside you. The streetlight allows you to see him. He’s sleeping, or doing a good job of imitating it. Thin cotton shirt, no glasses. Unguarded. 

> What else?

He’s not snoring, but the faintest noise escapes his nose on every breath if you listen. Yeah, actually, he’s definitely asleep.

At least one of you should be well rested for tomorrow. You’ll stutter through your questions all jittery on 3 cups of coffee, and Kim will give you a look and smoothly take over. Don’t bother him.

> Touch him.

Hey, what did we just decide?

You lightly trace every bump from collarbone to hip, a single sweep of your hand along his side. It reminds you of topography on a map. A scar here, a civil war there. A weary - but warm - elysium. The sensation makes you feel like maybe you aren’t so alone.

It’s been a struggle since you came back to Jamrock. Apparently, making the *body* forget to be an addict is a little harder than convincing the mind. You’ve been backsliding into bad habits you don’t remember making. Kim helps. Somehow he understands, and urges you to try to get clean again.

Somehow, he still sleeps here. Frequently, even.

You settle back into watching the ceiling fan again. Your neck aches from working long hours at your desk.

> What’s to the north?

“Detective.”

A whisper interrupts your thoughts. You turn your head to face him. 

He probably can’t make out your face without his glasses in the dark, but he can see the movement. 

You’re free. He popped your bubble! This is tangible proof that you’re still in reality. Respond, detective!

Your tongue is thick in your mouth. Words do not form.

“Why are you still awake?” Kim asks dryly. His normal clipped tone is softened by sleep.

> “... My mind won’t shut up.”

Don’t blame us. We’re just you.

“If I may make a suggestion…” He sighs, rolling closer and curling against your side. He rests one hand in the middle of your chest, idly scratching the thick hair there. Your heart sings. You loop your arm under his neck to accommodate him.

“You could try closing your eyes.” He finishes.

(I guess he could see your face after all.)

“Oh. Yeah.” You say it as if the thought had never occurred to you. He snorts. It’s too hot to cuddle like this, but he’s doing you a favor. The *least* you could do is try to sleep.

You suddenly remember how tired you are. Now that the spell has been broken, closing your eyes feels more promising. Like it might actually lead to sleep. 

You can feel Kim rising and falling along with your breath, both of you quickly getting sticky with sweat. But he’s keeping you tethered, and your thoughts don’t drift this time. Eventually, blessedly, the world slips away.

**Author's Note:**

> more of a writing exercise than anything else... anyway, i hope you enjoyed. thanks for reading!


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